The Show Must Go On (Book 2)
by GhostWriter11202
Summary: Only 2 weeks after his "amnesia" Danny gets stuck with the school play. But when Freakshow decides to show up and get even, Danny has more than he can handle. Freakshow is always one for theatrics and drama and finds the night of the school play, Romeo and Juliet, absolutely perfect for his revenge. He wouldn't dare dream of ruining the play, just enhance the reality of it, right?
1. Well, That Escalated Quickly

_**The Show Must Go On (Book #2)**_

**Chapter 1 *Well, That Escalated Quickly***

"And what do you have to say for yourself this time, young man?" Mr. Lancer's monotonous voice resounded throughout the dull, bland office. The out-of-shape teacher and vice-principal leaned against his neatly organized desk, not a pencil out of place or a paper crooked.

"One thing," Danny said, keeping his gaze level and unreadable. He sat in one of the two very uncomfortable metal chairs that were set in front of the wide desk. Danny had his chin in his palm and his other arm across his knees as he leaned forward.

Mr. Lancer waited impatiently, leaning forward for his answer.

". . . No regrets." Danny smirked.

That set him off. It was almost as if Mr. Lancer was a ticking bomb, and Danny's last few moments were up. "Mister Fenton! I am done with your pranks and lies! You will be punished, you can be sure of that!"

"But I didn't do it! You really believe I blew up your hunk of junk- I mean. . . priceless vehicle?" Danny _had_ blown it up. But on accident, of course.  
It had been just another regular old day walking to school, when suddenly in flies Box Ghost. Danny had only meant to shoot one innocent ecto-ray, but the Box Ghost had disappeared and. . . what do you know. . . sitting there just at the right time was Mr. Lancer's crappy car. BOOM.

Honestly, Danny thought he'd done the guy a favor, but Mr. Lancer was always one for getting Danny in trouble, no matter the predicament.

"Hm. . . What's an adequate punishment?" Mr. Lancer wondered aloud, tapping his chin thoughtfully as he stared off into space. He took his time.  
Suddenly he shouted, "Mona Lisa!" Which caused Danny to jump and to kick his foot on the edge of the desk.

"What?" Danny grumbled with a scathing glare in Mr. Lancer's direction. He just wanted to get out of the stuffy room before he suffocated from sheer boredom. In case you haven't noticed, Mr. Lancer wasn't one of Danny's top five favorite teachers. If there had been favorites.

"I've found the perfect punishment, Daniel-"

"Danny."

". . . Danny. To make up for my car, you shall participate, which I know is hard for someone like you-"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Please stop interrupting! And it means I've never met anyone more antisocial than you, besides that goth girl. And we're running low on auditioneers for the school play. Well, we don't have any really. I've had to go and pick random students of Casper High and tell them their part."

Danny got cautious and narrowed his eyes, glancing at the door to see if escape was relevant. Nope. Mr. Lancer had locked it after he called Danny in. Clever, considering he'd made jail-breaks more than once before.

"What does this have to do with me?" Although Danny knew exactly where the conversation was heading. Actually, more like where this _SENTENCING_ was going.

"You'll be taking an active part in our delightful school play, Romeo and Juliet! And fortunately for you, we're running so low on actors that you automatically get the lead of Romeo! Congratulations!"

Danny felt like he'd been accused guilty and hanged on the spot.

After several minutes of stiff silence Danny said flatly, "Excuse me?" His voice cracked on the first word.

"Rehearsals begin tomorrow after school. Show up or fail."

"Isn't there someone else? Someone, oh I don't know, better at acting?"

"Well, there was, but Tucker Foley isn't the best option. He's taking his part a little too seriously. I'll bump him down to underdog. Now please. Leave.

"But-"

"Sshh."

"I-"

"No."

"Wait-"

"Zip!"

Danny sighed, officially giving up on trying to work his way out of this problem. He couldn't give a sufficient explanation, at least not currently. He couldn't exactly say he was a halfa that had duties to protect Amity Park and all its inhabitants from rampaging ghosts.

Mr. Lancer stepped over to the door and unlocked it, opened it, and gestured for Danny to get out.

He stood up abruptly and walked past, not stopping to waste his glare on him. There was nothing he could do now. Except not show up, but that was out of the question. He was already failing in most if his classes, so he couldn't afford to take another blow to his rapidly dropping grades.

The final bell rang, signaling the freedom of the students for the rest of the day. Only Danny didn't feel like he was being set free. He felt like he was getting his required final moments with his family and friends before he was sent off to prison.

'That's it! I'm done feeling sorry myself. I've been less than helpful lately,' he thought to himself. His "amnesia" that he'd "recovered" from two weeks ago had left him unsure and unfocused recently.

"Danny!" Sam's familiar voice reached him through his tangled thoughts. He looked up just as Sam and Tucker reached him from their ninth period class.

"So? What's the deal this time?" Tucker asked. His teal eyes were wide with impatience and expectancy, but he didn't look the least bit surprised. This was sort of a normal thing for Danny.

Danny sighed loudly, wishing they'd just avoid the topic of him. Eventually he said, "I'm being forced to act the lead in the school play because he thinks I'm too "antisocial", which is not true! I have you guys."

"Um, Danny. Two friends isn't exactly being a socialite," Sam said quietly, uncertain how he would react. She bit her lip and shrugged.

"Wait, did you just say, _lead_? As in the lead male actor? As in my part?"

"Yeah. . ."

"How could he just throw my part away like that? I'm a star! I was born to play that part!"

"Sorry to say this, but you're my underdog now." Danny patted him sympathetically on the shoulder, but with a dash of smugness. Danny didn't want the part but it was kind of funny seeing Tuck in his current state. He really was heartbroken.

"Hmph! You've never even acted in your entire life! What if you stink? What if you quit? What if you accidentally break a bone?" Tucker said. Danny didn't like the way he said "accidentally."

Danny was about to retort some smart-comeback, but found it no use. It didn't really matter at this point.

"I can't quit. He already threatened me," Danny muttered angrily.

Seeing that Danny wanted no more talk of the play, Tucker chose to nag him. If he could just take his part and think he'd get away easily, well, he thought wrong. "When does practice start?" Tucker questioned as they began treading up the hall to the metal double doors that led outside.

"Tomorrow after school. So it's like one big, never ending school day. Except I have to dress up and pretend to be some dude named Romulous."

"It's Romeo," Tucker said, keeping the disbelief from leaking into his voice. "You've never heard of Romeo and Juliet?"

They walked out into the chilling winter wind, all three immediately regretting wearing such thin jackets. "I don't think so. . . Maybe Jazz mentioned it one time or another. You know how she is when it comes to nerdy stuff."

"Romeo and Juliet isn't nerdy, it's literature!" Tucker shouted, attracting a few odd stares.

"Shut up, Tuck! And, personally, I agree with you, Danny. I wouldn't want to be in that play if my life depended on it. Or any play, for that matter," Sam said, zipping her coat so the whipping wind couldn't find its way to her already cold skin. It was now a week into December and the temperatures just kept dropping lower and lower.

Danny dismissed talk about the play after Tucker asked who was playing Juliet. He really didn't want to think about the play, given it was his punishment, and Danny had never acted in his entire life.

After Danny snapped at Tucker, he cleared his throat, as if nervous about something.

"Sam?" Tucker asked uneasily.

"Yeah?"

"Well, I just remembered. . . Are you still moving?"

Sam laughed, whether with relief or humor, Danny couldn't tell. "No, my dad managed to talk my mom into staying. She was having a rough week, I think, that's why she kind of. . . snapped. But she's fine now. As fine as you can get when you're mother to an ultra-recyclo-vegetarian, rebelling, introvert goth."

Tucker sighed and smiled. "Good. I was afraid your mom had gone completely around the loop."

"Oh, believe me, she's long gone! This is the first time in a long while that she hasn't gone completely through with her unreasonable ideas."

They were silent after that, none sure what to say. But it's not like none of them were okay with the quiet. Between ghost fighting and their rambunctious families, silence was welcomed with open arms when the chance came.

As they walked home in the dawning snow, Danny thought about how much he was enjoying the normal-ness of everything, but he knew it wouldn't last long. Life was never normal for someone like him, no matter how much he wished it. And he knew he didn't actually want a normal life, he'd experienced it and remembered how helpless he'd been, how unimportant it made him feel. He would never neglect his special powers, but he appreciated the moments he had to be just a regular teenager. They were usually short moments.

He shivered. Cold, blue air escaped his lips. Immediately he went into fight-mode, fists at the ready and legs in a fighting stance as his azure-colored eyes searched the area for any signs of opposing forces. Sam and Tucker froze, both knowing what was coming. The trio stood back-to-back-to-back.

** . . .**

"Boooooooo! I am the Box Ghost, tremble before my almighty cubical fierceness!"

Danny went slack. His fists unfurled and he stood up as before.

"What're you doing out here? No matter, I'll enjoy taking my anger out on you, and all the while doing a good deed," Danny said, going ghost as he made his threat, although it was barely a threat. But he wasn't going to waste the good ones on the Box Ghost, that was just pointless.  
Danny flew up into the air to get level with him and shot ecto-plasmic rays at him. It took only three blasts to foil Box Ghost's scheme and send him running back to the Ghost Zone with his overalls down.

Danny landed soundlessly and shifted back to human, his silvery-white hair and neon green eyes returning to their usual raven-black, mussed order and sapphire irises.

"Huh, that took shorter than usual. I was looking forward to beating him up, really," Danny muttered, sighing with evident disappointment.

"Ah, cheer up, pouty. While you were busy, Tucker and I decided tonight is movie night! We all need a break from school," Sam announced, looping an arm around Danny's shoulders and then Tucker's. Danny stuffed his hands in his pocket with a small grin. He could always count on his two and only best friends.

When they neared Fenton Works they could see Jack Fenton testing one of his new inventions, which was likely to blow up. Unfortunately Jack saw them before they could sneak inside, and he urgently called them over with such enthusiasm that they were positive something was going to go wrong. And, like many other times, they were right.

"Check this out! I call it the Fenton Controller!" Jack held up a shiny green rectangle the size of his palm. There were about five purple buttons on the surface and a short antennae on the top right hand side. Then there was a red notch that could be turned to the right or left. "This baby right here will be the downfall of all ghost beings! It locks in on a ghost's ectosignature and gives me complete and utter control!" He sounded so overjoyed it was almost maniacal.

Danny laughed nervously and they all began to inch towards the door, but didn't make it very far when Jack yelled, "Wait! Don't you want to see it in action?"

"Well-"

"Of course you do! Okay, I'm pretty sure there's a shivering spook around here somewhere. . . Just give me a minute." Jack held the device this way and that, up and down, side to side, as if he was looking for reception.

The contraption began bleeping after only seconds of no luck, and Jack shouted and whooped with joy.

"Here we go!" he exclaimed, his back to them as he frantically pressed buttons and turned the notch in circles.

Danny sighed in aggravation and crossed his arms, not in the mood to wait for something that 99.9 percent was going to fail. But when he started walking involuntarily towards his father and was incapable of stopping, all thoughts of irritation evaporated.

"Um, guys? Help!" he hissed just low enough so his father couldn't hear. Sam and Tucker stood to attention instantly and realized the problem just as fast. Sam lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Danny's waist and jammed her heels into the cement, but her attempts were futile. Danny couldn't stop or even slow down, and he simply dragged her along without effort. When her arms began to slip and lose hold around him, Danny grasped her hands to keep from slingshotting into Jack, but even then they started to lose hold.

Tucker wound his arms around Sam's waist and dug his shoes into the pavement as well, but that only slowed them down unnoticeably.  
Just as Danny was about to ram into Jack Fenton's back and reveal his secret identity, with Sam and Tucker trailing behind, Jack grunted with frustration and sighed thinly.

"Oh, back to the drawing boards," Jack mumbled depressingly. He jabbed a button with his thumb and Danny halted sharply, tangling them into a knot. Jack turned around and a strange look crossed his face.

"What's going on?" he asked suspiciously, narrowing his usually kind eyes.

Danny drew a blank. They didn't look exactly casual in their current positions. But Tucker swooped in to save them with one of his brilliant excuses. Well, Danny thought so, until Tucker actually blurted out the little white lie.

"Um. . . conga?"

Danny barely kept from facepalming.

"Conga?" Jack said, tilting his head . . . "Okay! Have fun!" Jack tucked the Fenton Controller under his arm and saluted, marching on into the house.

"Hm. Why am I not surprised?" Danny asked after the door had been shut and they could still hear Jack's pounding footsteps as he descended the steps into the basement, also known as the Lab.

"I don't think any of us are. . . ahem, uh, Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"You can let go now." Danny looked down to see his hands still holding onto Sam's. He blushed slightly and let go quickly.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," he muttered, not looking her in the eye.

After that awkward scene Danny regained composure and changed the subject rather swiftly.

Refusing to let what had just happened get to him, he said instead, "What're we going to do about the Fenton Contraptor or whatever? My dad's invention actually worked!"

Sam seemed just as eager to forget. "I was thinking the same thing, definitely."

Tucker warily looked between Danny and Sam.

"What!" they shouted simultaneously. Tucker flinched back.

"Nothing! How about we just calm down and have movie night? I'm just as fine with forgetting the Fenton Controller all together. Anyone agree?"  
Danny wasn't ready to forget about anything, and not just because Violet had taken his memories. He had a feeling the Fenton Controller was way more dangerous than he thought, but couldn't pinpoint it.

Luckily, Sam decided to break through his reverie and shook him by the shoulder to get his attention.

"Hurry up and get what you need before something else happens. Your dad might want another try at the Fenton Controller." She cast a sly peek at the door, but no Jack Fenton came barreling at them with a thermos and the Fenton Creepstick.

"Sure. Be right back." Danny took off inside and Tucker whipped out his PDA. Sam tapped her foot impatiently, neither aware they were being watched closely.

Watching from above on the nearest building's roof does have its advantages. Carefully, he backed away from the edge and made his way toward the way down.

"Free at last. And the first to have the honored privilege of having my undivided attention for revenge has unknowingly just sealed his fate," he said to himself, rhythmically tapping his fingers together as he pondered on a suitable scheme. It was harder than you think.

"All I have to do is steal that controller, and Danny Phantom is done for. But alterations will made, of course. And not to mention the time it will take. . . or how complicated it will be. . . Having my scepter would be so much more helpful, to have to command a couple of ghosts to fix it up for me. But thanks to those imbeciles I don't have any more power than a weakling human! But I'll be in charge. . . Oh, I'll be _permanently _in charge." Being locked up by the Guys In White for as long as he had been can do this to you; talk to yourself, make you a little insane, and extremely unstable. Not like Freakshow hadn't been or done any of those before.

As quiet as a fox and as power-crazy as he'll ever be, Freakshow left without another delusional word said.


	2. Break A Leg!

**Chapter 2 *Underdog Falls***

When the movie had ended and Danny had left, Tucker was sure something was bothering his best bud. You didn't have to be an expert to realize that.

Right as Danny left, Tucker turned to Sam. "What do you think is wrong?"

"Whaddya mean?" Sam turned around to head back to the movie room. Tucker matched her stride and followed.

"I mean, haven't you noticed? Danny isn't his usual self. More quiet, reserved. He didn't even make a comment when I cried at Rue's death!"

Sam slowed down a little, but otherwise acted as if she hadn't heard him.

When he was going to repeat himself, she finally said, "Yeah, I've noticed. How couldn't I have? I just decided not to comment on it. Didn't want to make him mad or something."

Tucker considered this and saw she was right. "Well, what do we do? We are going to do something, right?"  
Sam hesitated again, but didn't answer this time.

"Come on, Sam! You're just gonna let it slide?" Tucker exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. How could she not care? Before he could have another outburst, though, he was so caught up in his rambling that he tripped on a step and fell forward. Sam reached out to steady him, but was too late. He was already crashing down the stairs. He could hardly register what was happening as his head hit the first step, then he went rolling down on his side the rest of the way. He couldn't even recognize pain at the time, it all happened so fast.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he met the carpeted ground. At the very least he was thankful it was carpet and not cement. He was still conscious and didn't feel the pain until he tried to move. It was like there were living flames in his leg. He took a sharp intake of breath and ceased trying to get up. But the gasp had started another pain on his left side.

"Tucker!" Sam took three steps at a time, only to trip, but luckily caught herself before they could have a repeat of Tucker's incident.

When she reached the bottom she dropped to the ground on her knees. "Tucker! Tucker? Are you alright? Answer!" They had been on the top steps when he'd fallen.

"Settle. It's okay. Just. . . call your parents or something," Tucker said weakly. He didn't want to talk from the flaring pain, and his vision wavered, like he was underwater. Everything Sam said sounded muffled and faraway.

"Okay. I'll be right back, just wait!" Sam flashed up the stairs and left Tucker to try and fight to keep consciousness. He heard her pounding footsteps on the staircase and then the hollow patters as she raced around upstairs. He heard her shout her parents' names.

Then she came running back downstairs with a phone in her hand as she dialed a number. She dropped down next to him again and groaned frustratingly as she pressed the "end" button to restart dialing because she'd messed up in her haste.

Tucker laughed. Sam gave him an incredulous stare. "What in the world are you laughing about?" she shrieked, pausing only a few seconds before dialing again.

"This. It's ironic," he muttered. The pain was as fresh and burning as ever, but he couldn't do anything about it. Talking kept him from closing his eyes and kept his mind from wandering back to the sharp pangs in his leg. And now that he was lying there, breathing felt a bit difficult, too. His left side ribs hurt tremendously, but not as much as his leg, he supposed.

"What's ironic?" Sam spat angrily. She wasn't angry at him, but at her clumsy fingers as she redialed the same repetitive number over and over until she could get it right. She must have seen the pain on his face if she was in this big of a hurry.

"It's ironic that something as normal and everyday as falling down the stairs injured me. What with all the ghost hunting and fights we're involved in. And we don't even have ghost powers! It just goes to show we aren't always prepared for everything. . ."

"Tucker? Stop talking gibberish and shut up! Just- don't say anything! I'm getting help."

He didn't want to stop talking, but he obeyed. He was getting really tired anyway, and maybe sleep would make the pain fade away, like it had never been there.

"Oh, man! You're bleeding!" Sam said, her hand hovering slightly just above his eye. Tucker was glad when he brought his hand up that it didn't cause any more extra pain, but when he touched the cut just above his eye, he flinched. Pulling his hand back, he saw blood on his fingers.

"Huh. I guess I am," he said as if it was of no consequence. His words slurred and he began closing his eyes.

"Tucker, do not fall asleep! Wake up!" Sam shook him lightly by the shoulder.

"Ow. Stop. That hurts," Tucker mumbled incomprehensibly.

Not able to go to sleep with the help of Sam's pestering, Tucker was on the verge of consciousness, only so much that he heard the door upstairs slam open and more footsteps stampeding down the stairs. When he peeked open one eye he saw a woman and a man, both blonde. Sam's parents.

"Oh, dear! Samikins, whatever in blazes happened?" Mrs. Manson declared.

"He fell! I said that over the phone, so please, do something!" Sam practically shouted. Tucker had never seen her this worked up.

"I'll be right back," Mr. Manson said firmly. He sounded authoritative and in charge, like the man in the situation usually did. Tucker saw through between his eyelids that Jeremy Manson had fled upstairs, but for what was more than Tucker wanted to think about. He'd rather lay here on the nice, comfortable ground and take a nap.

"Tucker, your parents are on the way. Can you hear me?" Pamela Manson said loudly, as if Tucker were a deaf. Tucker lifted his hand in a thumbs-up.  
Then he heard her say, "See, Samantha? I told you he wasn't dead yet."

"Not helping matters, mother!" Sam retorted rather snippily. Pamela merely huffed and stood by her daughter's side. Now, Tucker was never one for getting in good with the folks, but he knew for a fact Mrs. Manson wasn't one of the most compassionate people, so he didn't take her rude comment to heart.

Mr. Manson came thundering back down the stairs. "Don't worry, they're on their way."

And although he didn't say who was on their way, Tucker had a pretty good idea. And he didn't like it one bit.


	3. Late Night Visit

**Chapter 3 *Late Night Visit***

After an entertaining movie of comedy, explosions, and more explosions, Danny had told his friends goodnight and flew home. While he'd flown over the small town of Amity Park he'd made a double-trip to make sure there were no paranormal threats. And so far, there wasn't. Although that cheered him up considerably, it wasn't a good sign. There was usually at least one ghost on the loose and seeking trouble, and the Box Ghost doesn't count.  
Given how tired he was, he made a short trip of going home and flinging himself onto his bed, exhausted from the day's activities and surprises. Most unpleasant, but he didn't want to complain. Instead he closed his eyes and barely registered he was sleeping before he'd taken two breaths.

A banging awoke him. And yelling voices. Then the sound of his father's gasp, and a squeal (which also came from his father).

Danny couldn't tell whether he had been asleep for a few minutes, seconds, hours, but he bolted up anyway and ran out into the hall only to come face-to-wood with Jazz's door.

"Ow!" he griped on the floor where he'd fallen, bringing his hand to his forehead to find a good-sized bump, and most likely a bruise in the morning.

"Oh! Danny! Sorry, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? No concussion? How many fingers am I holding up?" Jazz yelped in a rush, shoving her hand in his face and further pushing his patience.

"None in a minute if you don't get your hand out of my face," Danny growled as he stood up and swayed a little. But the dizziness passed and Danny began to move past Jazz, but upon seeing her hurt expression, softened his glare and came back.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it," he apologized quietly. He gave her a half smile, unsure if she would accept the apology.

Jazz looked him up and down, then smiled. "It's 'K." She took a step forward and gave him a hug before he could protest.

"Ack!" is all he managed.

When she receded she mussed his hair and winked. And then she headed toward the stairs without explaining.

"Huh. Okay," he whispered dubiously to himself. After he rethought what just happened he shook his head, but that only made a pounding in his head. A headache would soon follow, no doubt.

As he shuffled to the stairs he glimpsed, out of the corner of his eye, a shadow move across Jazz's doorway. Danny took two steps back and slowly turned his head toward the figure. It was gone.

Certain his brain was playing tricks on him as a result of the hit, Danny sighed and ran the rest of the way downstairs.

It wasn't much better than being hit in the face with a door in the middle of the night. The Guys In White were throwing miscellaneous property around and rummaging through personal belongings, searching for something they were probably not going to find. They even blasted a few things to be sure whatever they were looking for wasn't inside.

"What the-? Mom? Dad?"

Jack and Maddie Fenton called their son into the kitchen. When he walked in, Jazz was already seated at the table looking outraged and Mrs. Fenton sat beside her, the same expression of hatred and annoyance. Maybe even more.

The only one who didn't seem aggravated at the break-in was Mr. Fenton, who was bouncing excitedly up-and-down with an excited grin.

"What's going on? What time is it?" Danny asked, already with his sister and mother on the situation. Anything involving the GIW couldn't be good.

"It's 2:30 a.m.!" Jack answered gaily, unceasing to stop jumping. He looked so overjoyed you might have thought he'd said they were going on a world-wide cruise.

"Great. . . Why are we happy?" Jazz said flatly, sinking in her chair to lay her head against the cool top of the table. She closed her eyes and began snoring softly only minutes after.

Danny looked at Maddie, Maddie looked at Jack, and Jack looked at Danny.

"Not it!"

"Not it!"

"Not- oh, blast it! I'm it," Jack pouted. Jack stopped bouncing long enough to lift Jazz and carry her to her bedroom.

When he had left, Danny asked, "What are the Guys In White doing here?"  
Maddie's irritated sulk came back and she slumped in her chair just like Jazz. "They have guts coming into the Fenton household! I almost took care of them with the Fenton Blaster, but your father stopped me before I could say, "Fire in the hole!" They think they can barge in and trash our stuff like nobody's business, but it IS somebody's business! Our business!" She pointed at herself for emphasis.

"But what are they doing here?" Danny asked again.

"Oh, they only said cell 375 was declared void and the rest is confidential. Wouldn't tell me a darn thing! Your father thinks it's the most exciting thing ever. The GIW are his heroes. If only he was into comic-book characters like all the young ones nowadays." She gazed off into the distance with a wistful expression. Danny got a little too weirded out on being stuck so deep in the conversation, so he began backing out into the living room. Sadly, the GIW were still ransacking the place and completely oblivious to Danny's presence.

"Hey," he said, trying to get their attention. They kept throwing things.

"Hey!" Still no response. He thought quickly.

"Code 194."

Both straightened up instantly and looked around with frightened eyes. One of them pulled out a strange looking machine, but Danny didn't want to take his chances that it was a harmless cellphone. "Where? Where! I'll blow it up! It won't get away this time!"

Danny gave a little look around, but saw anything. These guys really were weird.

"Yo, over here." Both Guys In White looked over at him, suspicious from whatever Code 194 meant.

"Just trying to get your attention. Guess it worked! Now, about why you're here. . . ?

They eased down at the fact that there was no Code 194 in action, but they remained as emotionless as always, their dark aviator glasses refusing anyone to see their eyes.

"Nothing. How about you let the men do the work around here, kid. We don't want you getting in our way." They resumed trashing the living room.  
Danny was tempted to go ghost and let Danny Phantom teach them a lesson, but he knew that would be a stupid move. He'd just create another problem which could easily be avoided.

"He's not here," said Mr. White.

"Confirmed," said the other Mr. White.

Danny let out a breath. "Oh, good. You can be leaving now, then-"

"On to the next room." They started for the stairs.

"What? Wait, no!" Danny decided to stall. "What did you mean when you said cell 375 was declared void?"

In unison, they replied, "Classified information."

Not ready to give in, Danny pressed, "Then how am I going to tell you whether what you're looking for is here?"

They looked at each other. A silent agreement seemed to pass between them. "Indeed. Here's a picture of what the convict looks like presently. Ever seen him? He was tracked to this location."

They pulled out a small picture from his inside jacket pocket and held it up for Danny to see. Was that. . . Freakshow?

"U-um, no. Never seen him before."

He put the picture away. "If you do see him, contact us." He pulled out another hand-sized card and gave it to Danny. It was a blank, white card.

"Uh, what is this?"

"Mr. White here thought it'd be a good idea to to make everything in white." The other Mr. White turned to Mr. White with a slight frown, but it was gone before Danny could decipher whether it was real.

"Just call 123," Mr. White said.

"That's an actual number?"

"Confirmed." The other Mr. White brought out another hand-held machine from one of his dozens of pockets and checked it. It was beeping and a blinking red dot was moving quickly across the screen.

"He's on the move! Clear out!" Both Guys In White streaked out the door and were gone. The only evidence they had been there was the thoroughly trashed living room and blank, white card sitting in Danny's hand.

Freakshow had been here? How did he escape? For the third time? Then Danny reconsidered the authority that had kept him captive and admitted it wouldn't be that hard to get away. But still, what had Freakshow wanted?

All of these questions raced through his mind at top speed, making his head hurt worse. In the end he decided to sort it out in the morning with Sam and Tucker. Surely they would have some suggestions. When didn't they?

And while he was at it, Danny came up with a solution to "accidentally" hurt something or other, and let Tucker have all the glory in the play. Tucker would pounce on the chance to have his part back. Danny would tell him tomorrow.

Not even 10 minutes after he'd laid back down and closed his eyes, the phone went off. Then Maddie burst into the room and took his covers off.

"Hunnie, we're going to the hospital," she said sweetly.


	4. Peachy Keen

**Chapter 4 *Peachy Keen***

Sam wasn't all opposed to hurting Tucker; a flick on the forehead; punch on the arm; even a kick in the shin. But she had not expected this to happen.  
Now she and her parents, Tucker's parents, and the Fenton family were taking up over half of the waiting room.

Sam took a look at the lively bunch. Her parents were sitting up straight and looking alert. They had their best clothes on and their hair was neat and tidy, but that was because they had come home from dinner night.

Mr. and Mrs. Foley were were in everyday clothes and worse for wear. Mrs. Foley's head was in her hands, and whether she was crying, Sam couldn't tell, and wasn't planning on asking. Mr. Foley had his right arm wrapped comfortingly around Mrs. Foley's waist as his other hand fiddled with something in his pocket. His eyes were cast down.

The Fenton's were all in their pajamas, but Mr. and Mrs. Fenton looked like they'd been awake for a while. They held hands and whispered quietly to each other.

Jazz was slouching in her chair, her head bobbing as she fought to stay awake. She was in her nightgown and her hair was in a messy bun. She yawned and rested her head on her hand, but her arm slipped off the armrest and she jerked awake.

Danny was in a pair of dark blue plain pajamas and his hair stuck up more than usual. He was barefoot, so that means they had left in hurry. Jazz at least had the decency to put on a pair of slippers. His head lay on his arm on the armrest and Sam couldn't tell whether he was sleeping or not. Jazz leaned across and placed a hand on his shoulder and said something to him, to which he responded by nodding absently and swatting his hand dismissively. Jazz sat back in her seat, still concerned, but otherwise awake. Danny was quite the contrary.

Sam sighed. She was so jittery and nervous she couldn't think on one thing for too long. When were they going to tell them? Those doctors hadn't said a word since they had come in. She couldn't take it anymore, so she got up and sat next to Danny.

"Hey."

"Hfft." His voice was muffled since his head was in his arm.

"Are you okay?"

Danny sat up. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Danny!"

"What?"

"Your forehead. . ." She reached up.

"I said I'm fine." He sat up straighter and turned his head to a different angle. "Besides, Tucker is the one we should be worried about."

And even though she wanted ask him what had happened, she didn't. She knew he was right. Tucker was the main worry right now.

When the silence dragged on, he finally said, "So what happened?"

Disappointed the only conversation was to talk about what had happened, instead of getting her mind off of it, she said, "He fell down the stairs. From the top."

"Oh." Sam could see he was searching for something to say, but didn't blame him when he said nothing more. And now that she was actually talking she realized she was content with silence. It was hard to talk about daily things right now.

A nurse came out and called, "Foley."

Maurice and Angela Foley stood at the sound of their name and hurried to the plump nurse for news of their son. The nurse said a few quiet words and smiled, then left with the Foleys following in her wake.

"I do hope he's okay," Sam heard Maddie Fenton mumble.

'Me too,' Sam thought. She was fidgety with apprehension. They'd been going to the hospital frequently, and she dreaded to wonder who was next.  
The same nurse came hobbling out and announced that they were welcoming visitors now. And despite Jazz's weariness, she sprang up like a spring and yanked Danny up with her. Maddie and Jack were as quick as their daughter. Sam's parents stood up with civility and allowed the nurse to show them the way.

Sam came along and tried to keep her gaze straight so she wouldn't have to look at anything else. Maybe she was developing a fear of hospitals like Tucker? She didn't know, but they soon came to room 247, where Tucker was. She had sworn to herself that she wouldn't get all panicky and jump to conclusions whenever something like this happened, but she couldn't help herself from thinking of the worst things possible. Some of her ideas didn't even make sense, but she was unable to stop her mind from rampaging on with impossible problems.

Sam's family and the Fentons kept a respectful distance from the doorway, but the door was cracked open and it was very tempting to eavesdrop. Actually, the only thing keeping Sam from doing so were her parents, who each had a hand on both of her arms.

Mrs. Foley eventually beckoned them in. As they piled into the small room Sam took a spot next to Danny as he stood next to Tucker's bed.  
Sam didn't know whether to be relieved or still worried. It wasn't as bad as she had thought'd it be. His leg was broken, that much was obvious, and his head was bandaged all the way around with white gauze. If you had pulled the gauze down any lower it would be an eyepatch.

"The doctor said he would be fine. It's only a broken leg and a broken rib and a mild concussion, but it could have been worse, right?" Mrs. Foley's voice was tight and strained, like a taut rubber-band that was on the verge of snapping.

"Of course. How about you take a seat," Mr. Foley said quietly, guiding Mrs. Foley away and to a chair at the edge of the room. Sam remembered the last hospital visit and flashed a quick glance in Mr. and Mrs. Fenton's direction. Jazz stood between them and was keeping a watchful gaze on both of them. Sam made extra careful care to keep a distance from the machines and wires. Danny wasn't doing anything, just standing there, looking over his best friend. But then he laughed, not loudly, just quietly enough that Sam heard.

Then she realized Tucker was awake. Danny was talking to him, but Tucker's responses were too quiet for her to hear. Tucker was smiling, so he must be feeling okay.

"Hey, Tuck. How're you feeling?" Sam asked, keeping her voice low so the others wouldn't hear.

Tucker coughed and cleared his throat. "Just peachy. But, hey, at least no accidents will happen now that I'm not standing." He attempted a mischievous grin.

"Sure, but your lack of grace is what put you here," Sam retorted, smiling back.

"Touché." Tucker looked at Danny, noticed his forehead, and frowned. "Dude, what happened?"

Danny sighed in exasperation. "Let's stop turning the spotlight on me. I mean, really? Look at yourself. Seriously, don't worry. Besides, it's kind of embarrassing."

"Whatever, chill out. Just a question," Tucker said. Danny laughed, but his smile faded abruptly when a wisp of freezing cold, blue air floated up from his lips.

"Now? It's three in the morning!" Danny groaned.

"Ghost?" Tucker said knowingly.

"Yup."

"No problem. Go ahead." Tucker gestured toward the bathroom door.

Danny stood up straight and went to it, closing the door, but only seconds later Danny Phantom flew out. Danny went invisible before anyone could see him, then went to go kick some serious ghost butt.

"Let's resume our conversation from before I went plummeting down the top of the stairs, shall we?" Tucker asked casually, raising his eyebrow with pretend curiosity. Sam rolled her eyes.

"And what were we talking about?" she said, placing her hands on her hips with artificial impatience.

"About what we're going to do about Danny. Now-"

"Tuck, he can handle himself. Just let it go, 'kay?" Sam interjected, tiring a bit from Tucker's overprotectiveness. She liked to leave those kind of problems for Jazz.

"But. . . I don't know. You're right, I suppose. Well, does anyone know when I'm getting out of here?" Tucker said to everyone.

"They said they have to keep you overnight for observations. But don't worry, we'll get you out a soon as possible," Mrs. Foley spoke up, wringing her hands. Sam didn't know why she was so worried, but it was a little annoying.

Screaming echoed throughout the hospital hallway, making everybody jump. Sets of footsteps were heard pounding down the hallway in the opposite direction.

"What in the world?" Jazz mumbled, half asleep but still fighting to stay awake. But when a mutant ghost frog came crashing into the chair next to her she jumped to attention. As did everyone else in the room.

Danny Phantom flew in after it, fists raised and looking determined.

"Visiting hours are over, slimeball!" he said, trying to lure the ghost away from Jazz. She cowered in her seat as the frog opened its gigantic, saliva-dripping mouth over her head. When it didn't respond Danny shot towards it, immediately going intangible as he made contact with it. Sam could hear his indignant protest when he touched the sticky surface of the frog before they went through another wall and on to the outside.

"I'll get it!" Jack screamed and, out of nowhere, pulled out the Fenton Grappler, activated it, and made a break for the hall. Maddie wasn't far behind with the Fenton Foamer.

"Samantha, are you alright?" Pamela Manson exclaimed, rushing to her daughter and taking her face in her hands. She pinched her cheek, smoothed down her hair, held up her arm; searching for any injuries.

"I'm okay! I stood here the whole time!" she said quickly, pushing her mother's hands down. Sam heard Tucker chuckling behind her and knew he found this funny, but she smile couldn't help a smile escape her as Tucker's mom scurried over and fussed over him even more.

"Oh, are you sure you're alright? Don't worry, that atrocity won't bother us again, the Fentons are taking care of it," Angela Foley cooed at her son, who was blushing a bright red.

"That isn't much of an assurance," Jeremy Manson said, sitting casually with his legs crossed and back straight.

"It's the best we've got!" Angela hissed.

Tucker let his head drop back into the pure white hospital pillow and closed his eyes.

"You ever wonder what normal looks like?" Sam asked dully, sitting down on the edge of the bed with resignation.

"Yup. All the time," he responded, getting comfortable in the covers.

At the moment both Sam and Tucker's parents were bickering over who-knows-what (Sam even heard one of them shout something about "Nutella being a nutritious and beneficial snack). It seemed they were fighting about anything and everything, and it reached to such an ear-drumming volume that a couple of workers at the hospital stopped in to shush them, only for their voices to rise once again after the doctors of nurses had left.

Not long after, Jack and Maddie walked in empty-handed, so Danny must have taken care of the six-foot tall amphibian. As soon as they walked in they noticed the parental argument and, Sam didn't know what they were thinking, decided to jump in.

"Ah, I love the smell of disagreement in the morning!" Jack sighed, and almost as fast as he moved when someone said "ghost", his mood shifted and he was adding to the noisy chaos. Maddie tried to coax him away from the other upset parents, but joined in herself when Pamela made a snide comment on jumpsuits. Now seeing Maddie was in the fight of flying insults, Jack started again with renewed vigor. He was really enjoying this, for some odd reason.

Danny walked out of the hospital room's restroom and stopped in his tracks when he saw their parents and Jazz, who'd slumped over and fallen asleep through it all. She wasn't one for losing her precious sleep.

He looked at Sam and Tucker. "What'd I miss?"

The room was dark and stuffy, almost no light to be shed. And whatever light that did seep through was drowned in the darkness like a vacuum. Silhouettes of various objects were scattered throughout the small space, and it smelled of musty old books, like a library. And to be exact, there was a whole wall in the room dedicated to years'-worth of books; dark magic, witch craft, information on the paranormal, how to contact the other side, and many, many more. He'd had no use of the books until now, ever since the family heirloom had shattered into millions of pieces. But Freakshow didn't need the scepter now. He had the contraption, and all he had to do was rewire it and set to work. There was only one fault in his masterpiece of a plan. He had no idea where to start. He was no expert on technology and wasn't sure he could get anyone smart enough to do it for him.

Perfect.


End file.
